


It's Cold Down Here

by theyoungestzerogmechanic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Fluff, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 00:36:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1284694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyoungestzerogmechanic/pseuds/theyoungestzerogmechanic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Cora’s too cold to even think about arguing with the girl, so she stands and drapes her blanket across the bed before ducking under the covers and pressing into Lydia’s warm frame.' // Cordia</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Cold Down Here

This was not how Cora had planned to spend her weekend, not that she’d had plans per say, but then that hadn't been the point; the point was that she was stuck in a car with Lydia Martin on some road trip that no one believed would actually pan out.

But of course someone had to check it out, that someone being Lydia apparently, and of course no one had any notions of sending the Banshee off without a bodyguard, hence Cora’s agitated presence while she mucked around on her phone and Lydia drove them to heaven knows where, in what looked to Cora very much like the middle of nowhere. 

“Where are we even going?” Cora asked, dropping her phone into her lap and fixing her gaze on the strawberry-blonde in the driver’s seat, “And now I think about it, what are we even looking for?”  
Lydia frowned at her, glancing at her for a moment before returning her gaze to the road, “Do you ever pay any attention to anything we say?” she scolds, drumming her fingers agitatedly against the steering wheel.  
“Of course not,” Cora replies, returning to her phone once again, tapping something out on the keyboard before scrolling down and showing the screen to Lydia, “We’re looking for this thing, right? It’s some antique Greek vase or something, right? I got as far as you guys want it to, what? Try and trick the demon back into its prison?”

“Essentially, yes. Though we’re doubtful it would actually work, we’re running out of ideas, and this one seemed as good as any. Now, shut up and let me drive in peace.”

“Where are we?” Cora asks raising an eyebrow and peering through the window at the run down building they’ve just pulled up in front of, with its peeling blue paint and wilting flowers.

Lydia ignores her and climbs from the car, heading of the door, and Cora had to jog to catch up to her, peering suspiciously between her and the building. “Red? Why are we here?”

Lydia jerks her head in the direction of a sign, and Cora stops to read the words Marty’s Motel and Open in glowing font before loping after Lydia once again, catching up to her as she opens to door and slips inside, leaving Cora to sigh aggressively before following her in.

“-only one room left.” She catches as she moves to stand behind Lydia, the girl sparing her a quick glance before replying, telling the man that they’d take it, and handing over a wad of cash.

He slides a key over the counter and tells them room six, and to be gone eleven the next morning. The way Lydia crinkles her nose at that tells Cora that they’ll be long gone before eleven comes to pass.

“Cora,” Lydia snaps, grabbing the ravenettes attention and she turns to see her holding the door open, impatiently waiting for Cora to follow after her.

They step out into the grey lights, and Cora shivers, feeling the rain threatening to fall with all its usual mid-winter gusto. Matching Lydia’s long strides back to the car to grab their duffle bags, and then hurrying into the shelter of the room.

There’s a double bed, with a small table over in front of the window that looks into the parking lot, and Cora steps over and tugs the curtain shut, choosing to flick the overhead light instead, bathing them in a soft yellow halo of light. They discard their bags next to the armchair sitting next to the bathroom door, and Cora snags her charger and hurriedly plugs her phone in while it flashes her with a 11% battery sign.

The dingy clock on the bedside table flashes two past ten, and Cora narrows her eyes at Lydia, “There’s only one bed.” She says accusingly, crossing her arms across her chest.

“There is, good observational skills there Hale. You get the floor.”  
“Why do I have to sleep on the floor?” Cora argues, narrowly avoiding stomping her foot like a petulant toddler.

“You’re a werewolf,” Lydia says like the answer is obvious, before turning and rummaging through her bag and pulling out a long pair of pajama pants and a hoodie. Turning her back on Cora she begins to strip off her sweater dress and tights and Cora turns, growling angrily under her breath, to find her own pajamas, blue flannel bottoms and a grey t-shirt.

Changed, Cora grabs a pillow and blanket off the bed and curls up on the floor, shutting her eyes she hears the click of Lydia turning the light off and the creak of springs as she crawls into the bed.

Cora has no idea how much time passes, but the floor is fucking cold, and she’s cold and the blanket isn't doing much to keep her warm, and the only sounds are Lydia’s breaths and the rain pouring down outside.  
“Cora?” Lydia calls softly, and Cora can hear the creak of the bedsprings as she moves, Cora hums in acknowledgement, and Lydia continues, “Come here, it’s cold, and you must be freezing, werewolf or no.”

Cora’s too cold to even think about arguing with the girl, so she stands and drapes her blanket across the bed before ducking under the covers and pressing into Lydia’s warm frame.  
“God, you are freezing. Cora,” Lydia exclaims, wrapping her arms around Cora’s small frame and feeling her shiver against her. The werewolf nuzzles into her, face pressed into the crook of her neck, hands tucked between their bodies, and Lydia can smell her raspberry shampoo. One of her arms is under Cora’s head and curled around her shoulders, and the other rests on her hip, thumb rubbing circles on the skin just above the waistband of her pajama pants.  
Warmer now, Cora tilts her head back drowsily, and peers up at Lydia through heavy lidded eyes, “you’re pretty and you smell nice.” She whispers conspiratorially, returning her head to Lydia’s neck, pressing a quick kiss against the smooth skin there before falling fast asleep.  
It takes Lydia another hour to do the same.

Cora wakes, tangled up the blankets and Lydia Martin. Their bodies are twined together, Lydia’s chin is resting on her hair, her arms wrapped around Cora, while Cora’s own arm is slung across her waist, the other still curled between their bodies, gripping the material of Lydia’s hoodie, their legs twisted together and tangled in the blankets.  
The clock blinks eight thirty-eight, and it isn't until seven past nine that Lydia begins to wake, but that’s fine, because Cora in fine where she is, securely in Lydia’s arms, breathing her scent of mint and hairspray.  
“Cora?” That’s the first thing Lydia says when she wakes up, releasing a breath of air that ruffles Cora’s hair, and Cora moans, prompting the strawberry-blonde to continue, “I think you’re pretty, too.”


End file.
